White Houses
by xXBeyondBirthdayXx
Summary: "It's alright and it's nice not to be so alone, but I hold on to your secrets in white houses." Style, K2, etc. R&R?
1. Chapter 1

**So, I've been wanting to write this. For a bit. Because I love the song White Houses! Each chapter is someone else's POV, and there are a million pairings in this. I don't know the definite pairings, but there will be a bunch! Except Kyman. I'm sorry, just... no. **

**Also, it'd be cool if you suggest a pairing you totally like, even if it's crack. My favorite pairing is a crack pairing, and I invented it xD (it'll be in this story)!**

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_And who's to say we won't burn it out?_

_And who's to say we won't sink in doubt?_

_Who's to say that we won't fade to gray?_

_Who are they anyway? Anyway they don't know_

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If there's one thing I'm sure about, it's that Wendy and I are over. Done. Finito. Fin. Whatever else language you can think of, we're done. But the thing is, we're still together. I know that sounds hella contridicting and shit, but I mean that we're still dating, but we don't like each other the way we used to. There's no spark there anymore, you know? It's almost like we're just putting up an act everyday, playing the roles of Park High's power couple of the quarterback and the star soccer player. You'd think that I'd date Bebe, since she's head cheerleader and the Homecoming Queen and all that jazz, but I liked Wendy. Straight black hair, blue eye'd Wendy. The only girl I know who can run almost every club, be class president, and the captain of the girls soccer team. To be honest, Wendy might be one of the most amazing people I've ever met.

But she just isn't _the_ most amazing. That person, my friends, is the person that I think about when Wendy kisses me, and even though I know we're both over each other, I still feel like a douchebag. In a way, it's almost like I'm cheating in my mind, and I just want her to dump me already, but I think she's waiting for me to dump her. But we both aren't stepping up and ending it, which is just making everything worse especially since the homecoming game and the homecoming dance is coming up, and everyone's already expecting Wendy and I to go together. Like we have been going together to every dance, ever since the fifth grade. It was almost _law_ that we had to go together, like it was written in stone.

Only I didn't want her to kiss me after I make the winning touchdown. I don't want to pose for pictures with her for her parents. I don't want to dance with her while we both wish we're with other people, and I don't want to be crowned King with her best friend. I just didn't. Call my freaking psycho, but I wanted to do all that with a _boy_. Yes, you heard me, a boy. Stanley Marsh, Park High's star quarterback, is into boys. But wait, want to hear something even _better_? That boy I was just talking about, remember him? Yeah, that's my best friend, Kyle. Jewish Kyle with the curly red hair and the big green eyes Kyle. Yeah, the one on the track team and he's captain of the debate team! Oh, how'd you know, you clever fool?

"Stan?" I heard my name and I turned around, all James Bond style, to see my other best friend, Kenny McCormick leaning against my locker. He grinned then, rolling his cerulean eyes at my impressive turning moves. He ran his tongue over his lip, over the bump of a lip ring before speaking again. "Dude, movies tonight. Don't bring the wife."

"Shut up, man." I shot him a look, closing my locker as we fell into step to walk to lunch. Kenny and I have made it a ritual to walk to lunch together, because ever since freshman year last year, we've always had classes together. Kyle always got into AP and Honors classes, so the only time I saw him was during gym, lunch, and Italian. And gym was an every-other-day class.

"I'm just saying," Kenny drawled out, flipping his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes, and I could hear the tinge of a country accent. "You've been together for like, years. It's law that you guys are gonna get married."

"Dude, no. We're not. It's not even like..." I waved my hands around, looking for something to say without giving away that there's just no _spark_ left in our relationship. "Like... like-"

"Like you're even in love anymore?" Kenny piped up, giving me one of his lop-sided grins. Fucking Kenny with his fucking blue eyes and his fucking freckles and his fucking knowledge to know _everything_. I'm serious. Kenny can look at you and just know what you're feeling. He's like freaking psychic or something, it's almost like he knows you more than you know yourself. Plus, he's the only person to ever survive one of Craig's glares and live to tell the tale.

I open my mouth to talk, but Kenny holds up his hand, speaking before me. "Don't even try denying it, Stan. It's so freaking obvious. For one, your kisses look forced. Second, I saw you two at the Graduation Dance last year looking at different people. And yes, I know you were looking at a boy."

I couldn't even fucking say anything, because Kenny knew me better than he knew boobs, and trust me, Kenny knows boobs. So I just stood there awkwardly, not saying anything while he gave me a smug grin as we entered the cafeteria. Kenny nudged me when Kyle looked up and waved, pushing his thick-frame glasses farther up his nose. I shot Kenny a glare before sitting down next to Kyle, Kenny taking his seat across from us.

"Did Kenny tell you about the movies?" Kyle asked, his voice instantly calming me down.

"Yeah, what are we seeing?" I questioned, my calm feeling evaporating when I saw Wendy and her friends walk in the cafeteria. I don't mean to sound arrogant, but we sit at the 'popular' table, so to speak. Most people are always confused as to why Kyle sits with us, but it's plain and simple. I love him. No, kidding, it's because we're best friends. I do like him though.

"The Last Exorcist." Kyle answered, not looking up from his algebra homework. Kyle is one of the only people I know who does his homework at lunch. He's also the only Jew I know.

"Aw man, Craig's not coming, right?" Kenny exclaimed, earning the famous finger from Craig, who sits beside him.

"Hey, fuck you." Craig shot him a glare that would've sent a nun running to confession, flipping his dark bangs out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry Craig, but you're ruining my game here." Kenny said lazily. "Everytime we see something scary, everyone attaches to _you_ for some reason."

Craig scoffed. "And you think I _want_ that? It's fucking annoying."

I stopped listening to their conversation when Wendy took a seat beside me, exchanging hellos with everyone before turning to me. "Stan, what are you wearing for Homecoming? I have to match you according to this one," She pointed at Bebe, who wiggled her fingers at me, waving and pursing her bright red lips.

"I don't know, black? If I show up in any other suit color, I'll look like a queer." I said nonchalantly.

Wendy smiled, writing a few things down in her notebook. "Purple it is, then."

Basically, the rest of lunch went on like that. Kenny and Craig arguing, Cartman and Kyle arguing, and Wendy and I making strained conversation. Like I said, Wendy and I are faking this whole relationship. I don't even know why, it's obvious she likes someone else and that so do I, but in my case, I hope it's not obvious _who_ that someone else is. Or else I could just kiss everything goodbye. They don't let gay guys play football. It's just the rule of high school.

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"This movie fucking blows," I whispered to Kyle, who I could tell was scared out of his wits. Kyle's just like that, you know? Really girly over things like scary movies and stepping in mud. Kyle shot me a look, squeezing my hand even tighter when the creepy-ass possessed girl was all creepy. I looked over at him, a small smile tugging at my lips as I watched him. His bright, green eyes were wide, staring at the screen, glazed over with fear. His pretty pink lips were mouthing something that looked like a prayer, and his hand was basically crushing my hand. I could feel my bones rubbing together in some hella uncomfortable way, and it kinda hurt, but just the fact that Kyle was holding my hand, even in fear, was enough to keep me there.

I broke away from Kyle to look to my right when I heard Craig mutter something along the lines of: "I swear to the Lord, I am going to stab someone."

I don't really blame him, either, I'd be pretty annoyed if I had a bunch of people crowded around me, holding onto me for dear life. Sometimes, I feel sort of bad for the guy, you know? Especially since even though this is guy's night, almost every boy was attached to him because every boy I know is a friggen scaredy-cat. Kenny was clinging to his right arm, Clyde on his left, Tweek was in his lap, and Token was sitting a few seats away, shaking his head and laughing. Token's the chill black guy that makes fun of all of us 'cause we're poor and he's hella rich. He also criticizes the fact that I say 'hella'.

I didn't really pay attention to the movie after that. What's the point? The basic gist of it was that some stupid girl is schizophrenic, but no no no, she says Satan a few times so she _must_ be possessed, and a priest tries to get it out. No thanks, I already saw The Excorsism of Emily Rose, you cheap knock-off. Kyle got really into it though, and when the credits rolled and the lights turned on, the first thing he did was look at me and say: "Wasn't that _hella dank_?"

Let me tell you one thing about Kyle. He substitutes 'hella dank' for you know, _normal_ words like 'awesome' and... I don't know, 'tubular' or something. I don't know what people say, people are awkward. But anyway, Kyle says some pretty funky shit sometimes, you know? Not just this stupid hella dank thing, but he also says weird things that just make no sense sometimes. The kind of things that I just sit there and nod my head for, pretending I know what the fuck he's talking about.

"That's so stupid," I roll my eyes and he shoots me another look, getting up and letting go of my hand. I stood to my feet, falling into step beside him and the other guys as we left, talking about the movie.

"Gah! It was so... ngh!" Tweek spat out, clutching his shirt in a death grip that caused his knuckles to turn a snowy white. His whole body convulsed as we walked out into the night, and I almost felt bad for him for some reason. Maybe it's because the kid's pretty troubled.

"I missed the whole thing." Craig replied nonchalantly, flipping off a random little girl who happened to stroll past.

"Dude, how could you, it was like, louder than... planes." Clyde snapped his fingers the second a word came to him, earning a 'look' from Craig, which is different from a glare.

"Oh, gee, I don't know, maybe it was because I had three guys attached to me shrieking while _this_ one-" He stopped to point at Token. "Laughed at me."

"You shouldn't have such soft arms, you were asking for it," Kenny laughed, throwing his arm around Craig's shoulder, earning a look from Tweek. If you haven't realized by now, we 'look' at each other a lot.

"Hey, fuck you." Craig shrugged out of Kenny's grasp, and Tweek rushed up to wrap an arm around his waist, still shaking like a nervous wreck of... nerves. Yeah, nerves.

Craig and Tweek aren't together, if that's what you're thinking. More-so Tweek is just really protective of his best friend ever since Craig got a girlfriend, and Craig's the only guy that can relax Tweek. Once, Craig wasn't around so Clyde tried calming him down, and Tweek (unintentionally) gave him a black eye. Tweek's just like that, you know? Ever since we were kids, he just spazzes and twitches and drinks coffee. That's just his thing.

We make a turn, and I almost wish we didn't, because we turned onto the town plaza, and guess who was sitting in the plaza? Wendy and her friends. And of course, all the guys start nudging Craig and I 'cause we're the ones with the girlfriends, and Bebe's head literally _whips_ around and she smirks when she sees all of us, whispering something to the girls and they all look over like a freaking Omen or something.

"Craig!" Red squeals, hopping up and running over to him, standing on her tip-toes and planting her lips on his. Tweek mumbled something, backing away to go sit on the wall. "Hey! Kyyyyle!" Bebe's voice pierced through the air, sing-songing Kyle's name. I saw fear flash across his eyes for a moment, and I couldn't help but laugh, even if I was jealous. Bebe's had a thing for Kyle since the third grade, and Kyle's been... scared of Bebe since the third grade.

"Help me." Kyle muttered before Bebe threw her arms around him in a hug, linking their arms and basically dragging him along with her. I felt bad when Kyle looked over his shoulder at me, one last desperate glance before Wendy was in my line of vision.

"Hey, Stan." She forced a smile, pecking me lightly on the lips. She adjusted her light pink beret, taking my hand and leading me over to one of the smaller tables just outside of Harbucks.

"Stan, I've been thinking." She says slowly, and my inner Stan is like YES. DUMP ME. NOW.

"Yeah?" I say hesitantly, trying to sound worried even though this is what I've been waiting for.

Wendy bites her lip, looking down at her hands before back up at me. "You should match Bebe's dress, since you two are going to win Homecoming King and Queen."

Motherfucker.


	2. Chapter 2

**High five for chapter two? Well, I don't want to bore you with details but I am so angry right now. My beautiful laptop has shut off and won't turn back on. I cried. Shut up, I'm fourteen, I'm allowed to cry over electronics. But anyway, let's continue on with the story. If you like a pairing, review saying which! This story is going to have a dozen and three pairings and I need your help :D**

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_And I will never see the sky the same way and _

_I will learn to say good-bye to yesterday and _

_I will never cease to fly if held down and _

_I will always reach too high cause I've seen, cause I've seen, twilight_

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There's a reason I don't do relationships, my friends. I don't do them because they're friggen' annoying, forced, and _pointless_. All you idiots are probably grilling me right now, you know, narrowing your pretty eyes and cursing my name. Maybe even putting some voodoo spell on me, you crazier ones out there. You're probably like "fuck you Kenny, you're stupid" and I'm just saying, with no offense intended, that you are a blind, delusional fool. Think about it for a second. _Don't stop, make it pop, DJ blow my speakers up tonight._ First off, don't criticize the fact that I like Kesha and I'm male. Second, did you think about it? I did give you a second. No? Fine, I'll spoonfeed it to you.

Let's take a look at Exhibit A. We'll call him Stan Marsh. You see him over there, with his choppy black emo hair and braces? Let's take a closer look at him. See how his chin's in his hand and his eyes are glazed over while he pretends to listen to Wendy ramble on about something pointless and stupid because girls are annoying and that's all they do? He's been tied down to a girl since the _third grade_. constantly having to listen to her problems and having to hear all her stupid hippie-nonense three times over. Stan's always had to take her out and make sure he's living up to her standards, and probably vice-versa. He's stuck in a relationship they've both lost interest in months ago. He can't bone his secret gay crush because they're both too pussy to wimp out and dump the other one.

Now let's take a look at Exhibit B. We'll call this one Craig Tucker. The difference between Stan and Craig is that Stan was blessed with having the cool girlfriend. The kind that has a life besides stalking you. Craig, oh Crag, you black-haired emo fool with the two different colored eyes... He's not as lucky. To sum it up, Craig has a Grade A Stalker girlfriend. The kind that requires a play-by-play of your life, and needs to know where you are and what you're doing and who you're with every second of every minute of every hour of everyday. The girl who's voice goes up 12 octaves when she sees you; the girl you _swear_ you hear dramatic music playing when she demands to know why you didn't respond to her billion texts or poke her back on Facebook. Poor Craig.

But I'm serious. I swear, it's like they're _slaves_ to those to girls. Wendy, I understand, can be scary, but not Red. Red... she's just irrelevant. Girls like her are the reason I fuck and run.

But don't get me wrong here. I'm not a horrible, pissy, angsty girl-hating fucker with no feelings. I'm actually really... different than that. I just had to rant because it's fucking annoying having to see my best friend get a boner over my other best friend and not do anything about it. And I just don't like Red, she gives me migraines. But anyways, I set my sights on my next target, a cute girl named Annie Polk, and sit beside her on the bench.

"So, Annie." I give her my famous lop-sided grin, and she blushes, tucker her short curly hair behind her ear. I swear, my smile is as effective as the Jedi Mind Trick.

"So, Kenny!" She giggles, looking up at me with her sapphire eyes. Annie Polk is a cute girl, let me tell you that. She has short, curly blonde hair with straightened bangs, and huge boobs. I think they might be as big as Bebe's, but you can't tell under her baggy sweatshirt. On the brightside, she wears mini-skirts all the time.

"You got a date for home-coming?" I pur, running my fingers through her soft, blonde hair.

Annie sighs, biting her lip and shrugging. "I was supposed to go with Kevin, since we were both nominated for King and Queen, but he flaked out for some reason. Now I have like, no chance of winning. Not even like I did, against Bebe that is."

It took all my will power not to roll my eyes. I never understood why girls care so much about being Homecoming Queen. It's not like it's Prom or anything. All you get is a stupid plastic crown and your picture in the yearbook. It's like, guys are like "Oh my God, winning Homecoming King and Queen is so stupid" and girls are like "No it's not!" and I'm like "You're dumb".

"Who cares if you don't win, you're still prettier than all those girls combined." I grinned again, taking her hand in mine. She blushed again, pressing her lips together in a small smile.

"I'll see you there?" I asked, and she nodded. I kissed her on the cheek, before getting up and walking over to Tweek who sat at the wall. I didn't want to end up with a date, but I mainly left Annie because Tweek, our small loveable blonde friend, looked like he was about to _stab_ somebody.

I sat down next to him, his face scrunched up in a grimace even as he twitched, a flask of coffee in his hands. His blonde hair was messed up as usual, his bangs almost covering his eyes. In this close proximity, I could see all freckles sprinkled across his nose. Tweek's cute. Like, cute-cute, not friend cute, you know?

"What's up, Tweekers?" I ask, and he mumbled something about gnomes before answering me.

"Red's stupid." Tweek spits out harshly.

"I know."

"And her hair is stupid."

"Mhm."

"And her name is stupid."

"Right."

"And she's... just so stupid. She is really stupid." Tweek grumbled, taking a long slurp of his coffee. "She's stealing Craig away. And she latches on-ngh!-to him like a freaking leech. A stupid leech too. She's the leech all the other leeches hate 'cause she's stupid."

I looked at him, right in the eye, and I heard him mutter something about pressure. "Tweek, are you _jealous_?"

"JEALOUS?" He screeched, earning the attention of everybody in that small plaza. "Why would I be jealous! There is nothing wrong with-ngh!-him having a girlfriend even if she is a stupid leech! I'm not jealous, I'm fine, see fiiiine!" And he chugged down all his coffee in one gulp to prove how not jealous he is.

"Tweek, you're extremely jealous." I stated simply, following his eyes that led to Craig, who was sitting with Red beside him, their fingers intertwined.

Tweek didn't say anything. He just licked his lips, moving closer to me, and rested his head on my shoulder. "Maybe. For the wrong reasons."

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The night ended up in Bebe dragging the girls away because she tried to kiss Kyle and he apparently _ran_, so I found myself walking home alone. That's what happen when you live on the bad side of town where all your friends don't. I'm not that bothered though, I mean, at least I have a roof over my head. I made it home finally, grabbing the doorknob and yanking, but of course, I'm locked out. It's not that big a shock, my parents are usually to drunk to stand, and my brother likes to lock me out for shits and giggles.

So I start banging on the door. "Open up, fucktruck!"

I hear my parents snoring in their bedroom, and I hear Kevin laugh, over the blare of the television. What a douchebag. I bang on the door a couple more times, before kicking it angrily and running a hand through my dirty blonde hair. Dirty as in the color, not as in I haven't showered. I go around the back of the house, to the window of my bedroom that I always leave a bit open for these situation. I curl my fingers around it, pulling it up as far as it would go, which isn't fully open for my to climb through. Fucking shit. I go in head-first, wiggling in until I land on my floor with a thud, cursing my brother's name under my breath. I swear, he's only here to make my life harder.

I climb onto my bed, taking my cell phone out of my pocket. If you saw it, you'd think it was a crappy Motorola, but I worked a shitload of jobs and saved a ton of money for it. It's perfect, and well, it's basically my baby. So say what you want, I'm going to defend my phone.

I quickly replied to a few dozen messages from people, mainly girls and Kyle. Kyle's insanely over-protective of people. And I guess after I ran off he wanted to know what was up. I was just trying to get home before my brother locked the door, which I didn't.

But that's just Kyle.

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"No, Kenny, you barely eat anything at home enough as it is and I don't want you skipping lunch either. Look at you! You're just skin and bones!" Kyle was lecturing me about the fact that I didn't want his sandwich, and I honestly do want it, but I don't want to be a burden. I'm not a charity case, I don't need anyone else's food to survive. I know I'm deathly skinny and that I skip lunch and breakfast most of the time, but I don't want hand-outs. Kyle wasn't giving up though. He kept on pestering me, shoving his sandwich at me, but I just shoved it back. He glared at me, before continuing on his ranting that I don't eat enough and that I'm going to get sick.

"Fine, mom, I'll eat it if you shut up!" I gave in, and he smiled at me smugly when I took a bite of that delicious baloney sandwich. He started talking again, but stopped suddenly, his already huge-ass eyes widening a little more.

"What, did you see Hitler or somethin', Jew?" Cartman sneered, shoving more food into his mouth. I was shocked that Kyle didn't give him a death look, but kept his eyes to the front of the cafeteria. Stan followed his gaze, and his eyes narrowed, so I knew something was up.

I turned around in my seat, and I knew on sight what was going on. A girl was in the front of the cafeteria, holding a tray of today's special in her hands, biting her lip while her big brown eyes looked around nervously. She had long, chocolate curls that fell to her chest, with side bangs clipped to the side with a red beret. She was wearing a green sweater that clung to her curves, with yellow skinny jeans, and penny loafers. She's a solid eight, on my scale.

Kyle looked at her in awe, almost as if he saw a friggen unicorn gallop by. It was almost like he didn't believe she was real, because he kept opening his mouth to say something, but no words came out. No words but one.

"Rebecca."

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**How'd you like it? I'm in a rush to update, so it's not that great. By the way, the girl is Rebecca Cotswolds, the home-schooled girl Kyle liked in the episode 'Hooked On Monkey Phonics'. I absolutely love that cutie :)**

**Reviews equal love and quicker updates.**


	3. Chapter 3

**IT'S BEEN LIKE ALMOST TWO MONTHS I'M SORRY. I lost the inspiration to write this D: Alright, since I was asked, this chapter is Kyle's point of view.**

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_When I see your face_  
_There's not a thing that I would change_  
_Cause you're amazing_  
_Just the way you are_

You know that feeling you get when you have to take a shit, and then you take a shit? Well, I have that feeling like a thousand times worse and it feels like my small intestine is clenching together to squeeze out said-shit. That's how I felt when I saw Rebecca Cotswolds standing in front of the cafeteria, looking even more beautiful than I last remember and I almost couldn't breathe. I mean, she was the only girl I was ever interested in, and I haven't seen her since I was eight, and she just pops up out of the blue seven years later? Yes, please.

"Dude, you alive in there?" Kenny waved his hands in front of my face, and I "came back down to Earth" as those weirdos always say. I looked at him briefly, his eyebrows cocked and lips pursed, and nodded quickly, pushing myself up from my seat.

"Kyle!" Stan exclaimed, and he grabbed my wrist. I looked back at Rebecca, who was starting to walk towards the back of the cafeteria.

"Stan, it's _Rebecca_." I said quickly, shaking loose from his grip, but not before I got a good look at him. His face fell, and it looked like he wanted to punch me, so I decided that that was a good time to run away. I know that you're thinking that I'm being a crap best friend right now, and that I should've stayed back and talked to him, but I don't know why I didn't. Don't give me that look, I seriously don't. The next thing I knew, I had hit the ground running, giving Stan a good look at my back as I walked over to where Rebecca was sitting, alone in the back of the cafeteria.

I pulled up a chair, sitting right across from her, which might've startled her because she jumped slighty and looked at me with wide eyes. She's still as pretty as ever. She has that long curly brown hair, and the big brown eyes, and her lips are the perfect 'kiss me' size. My lips suddenly felt dry, and I ran my tongue over, thinking of the perfect way to say hello. Because last time I tried saying hello, I said 'humahguufauewtg' to a girl, and she's scared of me now. Rebecca stared at me, waiting, and I decided to just say something cool like 'Hi, long time no dig'.

"Hi, Dig." I blurted out, my face almost instantly getting hot because I'm an r-tard and fucked up.

She gave me one of those little smiles that girls do, before biting her lip and tapping her hands together, just like when we were little. "Hello."

"I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm-"

"Kyle Broflovski. You entered and misspelt krocsyldiphithic." She nodded. "You also kissed me and turned me into a massive whore for a night."

I blushed, squirming in my seat uncomfortably, scratching the back of my neck and trying to avoid her eyes. I opened my mouth to speak and stuttered over something that didn't form a word, before she spoke up again.

"It's nice to see a familiar face after all these years, though. Thank you for sitting with me." She smiled again, taking a bite out her PB&J.

"Yeah, no pro-"

"Hello!" A voice interrupted me (RUDE), and we both looked to see Wendy take a seat besides me. Of course. Wendy fucking Testaburger, the cockblock of the century, _has_ to meet Rebecca when I'm talking to her,

"Hello." Rebecca replied, her voice so childish while she bit her bottom lip.

I force a smile at Wendy, who grins in my general direction before averting her attention to Rebecca. "Hey, I'm Wendy. I hear you're Mark's sister? He's in my Global class."

"Yes." Rebecca's doing that cute adorable biting her lip thing and I'm so... dude, she's adorable as... baby seals.

"So what electives are you taking?" She asks, obviously unsatisfied with Rebecca's one-word answers.

"Art and French."

"Oh, that's awesome! I'm in French three if you need any help, since you're just starting out and all." Wendy continued, and Rebecca nodded before Wendy waved, FINALLY (thank the Lord), being called over by her friends. I swear, Wendy's like the fucking cockblock terminator, developed in a secret government lab or something.

So then this led to a very bland, kind of really awkward conversation. It basically went like this.

Me: So... got any pets?

Rebecca: No.

Me: I have a parrot... his name's Quincey.

Rebecca: Does he speak?

Me: He just copies whatever I say.

Rebecca: I see.

Me: ... got any... recipes...

Rebecca: Yes.

Me: I can't cook though.

Rebecca: I see.

If it isn't obvious already, I can't pick up girls for shit. Or hold a conversation that doesn't involve my parrot or my lack of cooking skills. Or get Rebecca to speak in a full sentence that has more than three words. My life sucks. We kind of just sat there, doing that weird avoiding-each-other's-eyes-and-nodding-to-ourselves thing, before I felt someone yank me up by my shirt and whirl me aroud to drag me out into the hall. It was Stan. And he was all "yo Kyle I got AIDS". No I'm joking.

"Kyle, kiss me."

_And when you smile,_  
_The whole world stops and stares for awhile_  
_Cause girl you're amazing_  
_Just the way you are_

**HAHAHAH. CLIFF HANGER. OH. TAKE THAT. WORD. YEAH. HA. So next chapter's probably Kyle's point of view again or something. Eyedeekay.**


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